


Static Cling

by horrorsilk



Series: Kinktober 2020 [11]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Kinktober, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Table Sex, Wire Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:09:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26920420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horrorsilk/pseuds/horrorsilk
Summary: Nick goes to Sanctuary to pay a surprise visit to Warren. But, as per usual, it doesn't take long for Warren to turn the tables.For Kinktober prompt: under a table
Relationships: Male Sole Survivor/Nick Valentine, Sole Survivor/Nick Valentine
Series: Kinktober 2020 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947808
Comments: 1
Kudos: 40





	Static Cling

Somehow, he'd gotten lucky; Nick had walked all the way from Diamond City to Sanctuary and it hadn't rained. Not even once. The Minutemen stationed at the entrance to the settlement greeted him with enthusiasm. He hadn't been around in a while, after all, and for some reason most everyone here enjoyed his company. Well, except Danse, but Nick didn't really pay much attention to him nowadays. 

"Nick!" The synth turned around to see who had called for him, and was greeted by a hearty clap on the shoulder that made his metal joint creak. 

"Deacon," Nick drolled, rolling his shoulder. "Take it easy, would ya? You might be dead set on trying to talk me into getting a new body, but I'm not quite finished with this one yet."

The man, much to his credit, looked sincerely apologetic. "Ah, sorry, detective. Though you really should give getting a gen 3 body a go; I know Dez and Tom would be happy to -"

Nick lifted a hand to silence him. "Again, I'm not quite done with this one yet, but as always, I'll keep it in mind." He sighed and looked around. "Anyway, where's the General? He's the one I came here to see."

"Oh, I bet you did." Deacon gave a sly grin. "He's over on the other side of the settlement, helping patch up the turrets."

Grumbling under his breath, Nick headed in the direction indicated, looking up only to greet a few of the settlers as they said their hellos. Truly Sanctuary had come a long way from the first time Nick had been here. The ruined houses had been patched up where able and replaced where they were too far gone, new buildings had been erected along the patched road and in the empty areas. There was even a greenhouse and a few warehouses to store equipment and the like. It was as close to the pre-war towns that jumbled around in the original Nick's memories as the Commonwealth had. And, as much as he liked to deny it, the progress was all because of Warren.

"Are you sure we've got enough coverage now? I know there's someone posted in the watchtower there, but I still don't want to risk anything slipping through." 

Just as Deacon had said, Warren was at the northern side of the settlement, where it seemed like they were putting up a few new turrets along the perimeter wall. The Vault-Dweller was dressed in an oil-stained mechanic's jumpsuit, the sleeves rolled up to just above his elbows, his face streaked with sweat and dirt. Because even though he ran his mouth and liked to complain every time someone asked him for help, Warren wasn't the type of person to just sit back when there was work to be done. He tossed the wrench in his hand back into the toolbox at his feet.

"I think we'll be all right, general. We've got the two turrets on the other wall as well, don't forget," one of the men up on the wall called down to Warren. "And like you said, we've got the watchtower." 

Warren nodded and crossed his arms. "Yeah, you're right. Guess that just about wraps things up, then. Thanks everyone, you can leave the tools. I'll haul 'em back to the shed." 

The settlers didn't stick around once they'd been dismissed; it was already pushing early evening and the summer sun was still hot, and there was no doubt in Nick's mind that there was nothing they wanted more than to get out of the heat. As Warren gathered up the loose tools and tossed them into his toolbox, the synth stepped forward and cleared his throat.

"Need some help there, general?" he teased.

Warren whipped around, hazel eyes wide and bright as his face split into a massive grin. "Nick!" He set - or maybe tossed was more accurate - the toolbox to the side and gathered the synth up into a tight hug, laughing and spinning him around. "What are you doing here?" 

"Eh, I was just in the neighborhood and figured I should check up on you. Make sure you were brushing your teeth and all that."

The Vault-Dweller laughed, taking Nick's face in his hands and leaning down to kiss him. "Every night. And don't worry, I've been washing behind my ears, too." He smiled gently, swiping his thumbs over the synth's cheeks. "Damn, I missed you, Nick. I'm so glad you came to visit."

"So am I, doll." 

Warren sighed and gave him another kiss, this time on the nose. "Well, what say I take you to dinner, Detective Valentine? Just let me get myself cleaned up and I'll meet you at the bar."

Nick snorted. "What bar? I didn't know there was a bar in Sanctuary."

"There is now," Warren chuckled, turning away as he started to walk to the tool shed. "I built it."

* * *

Nick leaned against the doorframe, already on his third cigarette as he waited for Warren to meet him. It had only been about half an hour since the Vault-Dweller had went to shower, but it felt like a lifetime. After all, he hadn't seen Warren in nearly two months, and he'd missed him something terrible. Not that Nick would ever complain; he just tried to keep himself as busy as possible in the time apart. Warren was a busy man, what with being General of the Minutemen, a Sentinel for the Brotherhood of Steel, and running ops for the Railroad when he wasn't also helping with repairs in Sanctuary. Nick was reasonably certain that the only time the man would slow down was when he dropped dead of exhaustion. Probably with either a wrench or his machete in hand, or most probably both.

"Sorry to keep you waiting." Warren's voice snapped him back into the present.

"You know I'm always willing to wait for you, Ren," Nick said with a smile. "My, don't you clean up nice."

It was a rare thing to see Warren without his face coated in grease, sweat, blood, or a mixture of the three, so him being so freshly clean made Nick's processor stutter. 

"Only for you, Nicky," was the smooth reply. "Shall we?"

He took the synth's hand in his own, lacing their fingers together. They made their way inside the newly constructed bar, which beneath the scent of cigarettes and alcohol still smelled like fresh paint, and settled in a booth near the back corner. Nick slid into his seat, and Warren sat beside him on his left, leaning back into the cushioned bench with a contented sigh.

"So? What do you think of the place?"

"It's nice. Clean. And I don't have to worry about being robbed or turned into scrap, so I'd say it's not a bad place to meet someone." Nick watched as a few more settlers filtered in, the crooning song on the jukebox pleasant and the buzz of conversation filling the room. "I might say it's the nicest bar in the Commonwealth."

"Aw, Nick, you always know what to say." Warren grinned and waved over one of the young women who was distributing drinks. "I'll have the usual, Cas. Nicky, you want anything?"

"No, I'll be fine. Thanks, doll." Nick smiled politely at their server as she bustled away. Warren of course knew he couldn't drink anything, but it was nice of him to ask, if only to make him feel included. Cas returned a minute later with a fifth of whiskey and a glass tumbler. Warren thanked and paid her, pouring himself a glass and lifting it towards Nick.

"Many happy returns and all that jazz," he said before tossing it back.

Nick laughed, and for a time they chatted about nothing in particular, just catching one another up on what they'd been up to the past couple months and enjoying the sound of the other's voice. A few hours passed, and while the bar grew more and more packed, no one really seemed to pay much mind to their booth. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that it sat in one of the darker corners of the room; people probably didn't even know they were there. Not that Nick was complaining. He barely saw Warren, so the more time he got him all to himself, the better.

Nearly three quarters of the way through his bottle of liquor, Warren pushed his glass aside and hummed along with the music. Nick watched him quietly, eyes glowing dully in the low light, the corners of his lips tugging up into the smallest of smiles.

"Enjoying the view?" the Vault-Dweller asked, leaning forward against the table. 

Nick chuckled and shook his head. "I'd think it was obvious, Ren; you shouldn't have to ask."

"Maybe not, but I still like to tease you." Warren grinned widely. "I like the way your eyes flicker when I get you really riled up."

The synth felt his processors firing up again, coolant flooding through his body in response to the uptick in activity. "Keep talkin' slick like that and we might have to cut out of here early."

"Aw, Nick, don't be such a spoilsport. I'm sure there's plenty of trouble we can get up to here. I built the place, remember?"

Warren laughed and gave the synth a kiss on the corner of the lips, pulling away before he could reciprocate. With a final shit-eating grin, he ducked out of sight beneath the table, and Nick frowned, confused. Whatever was happening, it was obvious that the Vault-Dweller was up to no good, and, as per usual, he probably intended on dragging Nick along.

What he _hadn't_ been expecting was the pressure of Warren's hands on his thighs, the warmth of his skin seeping through the fabric of Nick's trousers. Again he felt his processors jolt to keep up with the changes in sensations, especially when Warren began to press searing, open-mouthed kisses along the insides of his thighs, all the way from his knees to his hips. Nick let out a shaky breath, flesh hand slipping under the table to touch the man's hair. What he had meant as a gentle touch, though, quickly turned into a death grip when Warren pulled open his trousers and pressed a single kiss to his bare, synthetic skin.

"Fuck," was all Nick could manage to garble out. 

Warren's breath was hot against him, ghosting beneath the skin in the areas where the flesh had grown thin and his mechanisms were exposed. There had been a time when his anatomy - or lack thereof, more accurately - would have deterred him from even allowing the Vault-Dweller to get so close to him, but that time had long since passed. Nick trusted Warren like no one else, even with this still not-quite-human part of himself. But even if there were any lingering doubts rattling around in his memory, when the man pressed his tongue against one of the jagged edges of his skin, they were instantly chased away. Every sensor was on high alert, ready and waiting for direct stimulation. 

"Oh, Detective Valentine." 

As always, Preston Garvey had the worst timing. Nick cleared his throat, trying to rid his voice of static even while Warren - the sorry bastard - kept touching along his thighs and groin. 

"Evening, Preston." The synth tried to sound casual, lifting a cigarette to his lips and hoping against hope that Preston didn't notice how badly his hands were shaking as he lit it. 

"You haven't seen the general around, have you? I've been trying to track him down for an hour."

"I...no. No, can't say I have." Nick grunted when Warren licked against a particularly sensitive spot. "Sorry." 

Preston looked disappointed but unsurprised. "All right, well, sorry for bothering you. If you see him, could you tell him I'm looking for him?"

"Sure thing, Preston." The synth tried to smile, but it came across as more of a grimace when he felt the blunt edges of teeth dragging along the underside of his skin. "Good night."

As soon as the sound of footsteps faded, leaving behind the drunken chatter and steady beat of the jukebox, Warren returned to his task with vigor, nails digging into Nick's thighs as he pulled them further open. He was whispering against the skin, though of course Nick couldn't hear him, just feel the brush of his breath over his too-sensitive flesh. The cigarette trembled in his lips, and eventually he just flicked it into the ashtray, unable to hold it in his mouth any longer. Not when he was struggling to breathe as Warren continued to tongue along the ragged edges of his worn panels. And when he reached inside, rolling his wires between his fingers before slicking the tip of his tongue up them, Nick felt coolant flooding into his extremities as he rested his head against the padded booth. As an alarm sounded somewhere in his head, he gave Warren a smile before rebooting.

It was only a few minutes later when he came back online, his head resting against Warren's shoulder. Blinking slowly, Nick sat up, muttering his thanks as the Vault-Dweller handed him back his hat.

"Perhaps we ought to call it a night, detective," Warren quipped, wearing a smug grin. "You fell asleep on my shoulder."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's exactly what happened," Nick grumbled, though there was laughter in his words. "Gonna walk me home, general?"

"You know it." Warren stood and helped the synth to his feet, lacing their fingers together as they left the bar and made their way back home. 


End file.
